


Breakfast

by edourado



Series: Hell's Kitchen Chronicles [45]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, for the first time ever, kastle - Freeform, kastlehalloween, two part post
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-31
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-28 06:20:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8434912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edourado/pseuds/edourado
Summary: This is my entry for the Haloween Kastle Exchange! The prompt was just phenomenal. Four quotes from two authors that capture Kastle beautifully. Two part fic.





	1. Breakfast

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PunkyNemo (TheVampireCat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVampireCat/gifts).



> She has saved me from everything that is not here.” - Charles Bukowski

 

Yeah, ok. He would admit it: it was worth it, the splurge on the rental of this place.

Usually a man of practical choices, Frank had debated if he should spend more on the “morning sun” fee of an apartment (with an elevator and privileged view of the street) or just get a more down to earth, secluded place.

(It was being paid with illegal gun dealing money they had ‘rescued’ from the villain of the turn, but still. The funds weren’t limitless.)

It had been, ultimately, the security system of the building that had made his mind. But now, with the sun streaming in through the gaps of the black out curtains on the window, he realized a little comfort didn’t hurt.

And neither, incidentally, did the nails on his back, running up, all the way to his scalp and into his hair, and down, passing by his shoulders, over his ribs, down to  his hip and then back up. Over and over, slow, caressing.

“To the left a little”, he said, turning his head away from the sun, moving his arm to reach her.

Again, Frank was a practical man. Even with all the evidence slapping him in the face everyday that she was more than just an allied, he didn’t dare wait and ask for more. Whatever he got from her was more than the nothing he had set himself to have for the rest of his life, so much more than the misery and pain of everything he was and wasn’t, everything and everyone that was and wasn’t there anymore. And then last night…

Frank had saved Karen’s life last night - even if she disapproved on how he did it - but how long had she been saving him for, now?

When his hand touched her back, he kept reaching until he could grasp her waist and pull her closer, his nose touching hers, her fingers scratching that nice path on his back still.

“Morning, ma’am”, he greeted, allowing his muscles to relax, to enjoy the mattress under his body, the cold air of the last day of October chilling his skin and the woman against his chest.

“Morning”, she replied. “It’s Halloween”.

He chuckled, “Is it?”

“Yeah”. She hooked her leg with his and molded her body to his. “Maybe we’ll get some trick-or-treaters. We should stock up on candy just in case.”

While she spoke, he moved to lie her on her back, his lips running along the length of her neck, because he had thought about doing that for so long.

“I got a better idea”, he said, climbing on top of her, chin pushing the covers aside, mouth on her skin, hands full of her. “If I let you scream like you wanted to some hours ago”, that pulled a laugh that shook her, and he smiled, pleased, relaxed, fuck, this is dangerous. “Maybe the trick-or-treaters will think this place is haunted and leave us alone.”

Legs around his torso, fingers pulling on his hair, she arched up against him a little.

“You saying I sound like a witch?”

Frank nipped on the skin of her belly.

“Don’t sound like a soprano.”

She slapped his shoulder and moved to prompt him up.

They looked at each other, at first with humor in their eyes. And then her hands found his face, caressing softly enough that he had to close his eyes and lean into that touch, into those trouble seeking hands that typed dangerous articles but held him with the touch of salvation.

Frank had just bowed his head to kiss her when life decided to burst his bubble.

“Morning, folks!”, the friendly, loud voice sounded from outside the bedroom. “Up and at ‘em, Castle, let’s go!”

Groaning, he pressed hurried kisses to her lips and neck and got up, putting his underwear and pants back on before opening the door, blocking the view with his body.

“The fuck, Micro, it’s six in the morning”, he frowned at his friend, who was standing in front of the door of the bedroom Frank was supposed to be occupying.

The hacker looked at him, squinted and tried to look past him, into Karen’s bedroom.

When Frank didn’t budge, he raised his brows and turned around.

“Well, excuse the shit out of me. I thought we were handling business. My bad. I’ll grab some pancakes downstairs.” He walked to the front door and turned back to look at Frank, a grin on his face. “You call me when you’re decent.”

When the front door closed and locked behind him, Frank closed the bedroom door again, turning around to look at Karen, who sat against the white pillows, blond hair glowing in the morning sun, big blue eyes looking at him, the sheets covering her chest.

He did have to finish the clean up. But not now. Jesus, not right now.

When she welcomed him back on the bed, he worked on getting his pants off again.

“You don’t have… work?” She asked, careful, since the topic and their argument was still very recent.

“Later. I believe I had a breakfast appointment.”

Biting her lip, she smiled and hugged him to her, covering them both with the linens of the bed she was supposed to be occupying alone in this temporary apartment.

Well. Plans change.


	2. Treat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You and I both know, the dark doesn’t make the bruises disappear. It just makes them harder to see.” - Iain Thomas
> 
> “I know you have feelings left somewhere. But they’re all so hard to reach.” - Iain Thomas
> 
> “We don’t even ask for happiness, just a little less pain.” - Charles Bukowski

Her scream echoed for what felt like forever.

To be quite honest, it was probably the thing that kept him from letting go.

Moments before, not even two full minutes, probably, she had been smiling at him. Not the sarcastic or the ironic smile, not even the friendly or the tired one he had seen so many times before. This was a special one. It came after a slight bite of her bottom lip, just a tease of teeth on flesh and then her face lit up for him, her cheeks adopting a slight hue of red.

It had pulled a smile of his own.

The thought had been in his mind for more than he cared to admit. Logically, it was bonkers. Selfish and irresponsible. Nothing about it translated as a good idea, in any scenario.

Except the way he felt around her, about her. Except for every little thing she sparked inside him, from the peace she brought to his war to the flames of desire that set him on fire from within at the sight of her at any given moment. And those proved to be powerful arguments, even for a man like him, highly trained to control his own desires.

In his defense, he did try to fight it. Of course he had. For a long while there, he tried to snuff it out and leave her be. Leave her to her own life and keep at his own. Maybe let the darkness take him for good. At least his scars and the bruises, ever fresh, wouldn’t be so evident as they were when he stepped out to walk by her.

Only he didn’t really want it. Nor did she. And his attempts only resulted in them getting closer, somehow.

And right then, while she helped him with the strap of his vest - the last thing he needed, but it provided some sort of comfort for them both -, he felt it again. That thing that screamed “mine” at the sight of how her hair rested against her neck, that fired up that want and need inside him. He surrendered to her.

“Might need some help with that later, too”, he said, to her ears only, the noise of Micro’s fingers on his computer a few feet behind them.

Her eyes rose from the strap on his side to his own, she blinked.

Frank could never explain these things. It was the same with Maria. Those key moments were not something he had words for. They existed, they happened, they changed everything. And that’s it.

That’s it.

She stared at his eyes and he sustained her look, letting her in, trying to get in.

And he smiled when she smiled.

“Come back in one piece and we’ll see”, she replied, standing there with her face inches away from his.

“One piece. Hmm”. He should have done this sooner. He shouldn’t do this at all, but he should have done it sooner. “That’s a big request. Alive is one thing, one piece… Gonna need more than help with the vest for that.”

Her smile grew, as did the tint on her cheeks. She tugged on his vest, adjusting something that didn’t need adjustment. He bowed his head, looking for her eyes and she looked up, back at him.

“What do you want?”

He leaned into her slightly, letting his gaze drop to her mouth. When their eyes met again, the air was heavier and he wanted to keep leaning in. But he didn’t, because the voice in his ear piece gave him the signal, and he had to go.

“Breakfast.”

Her lips parted and she cocked her head to the side a bit, a smirk he would call “cheeky” making him want to stay.

“Deal.”

That moment, the one that changed everything, stretched forever. As did her scream when the bullet - bullets - hit him.

He had been there for her, to protect her. Had brought everything he got, because she was too important. The selected few allies The Punisher had managed to keep and gather were called to the cause of keeping Karen Page, who had picked a fight with a rising politician with a mob background, safe.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Castle can’t come to the phone right now”, he heard as he felt blood running out of the wound in his shoulder and to the floor, his target holding the silver gun with the customized grip in one hand, his ear piece in the other. And then he crushed it. But Frank’s order had been clear:

“Get her out of here.”

.:.

The way they pulled and dragged her back, outside, into the car and off, tires burning against asphalt, you would think she was some sort of important political figure or the princess of some country.

Karen didn’t even have time to protest and Micro was serious - more serious than she had ever seen him -, all the flirt and the jokes gone, a frown and a tight hand against her arm while his men - Frank’s men - escorted her back to the car she didn’t even know he had ready.

“Where are we going?” she asked, realizing her hands were shaking. “We can’t leave him!”

“We won’t!” Micro said from her side, looking out the window as the car moved. “But you heard him, we have to get you out of here.”

“It’s not me they want! They went straight for him, you saw it!”

He took a few seconds to answer.

“Yeah. But we have to come up with a plan, Page, we can’t just go in there blind.”

Karen sat back against the seat, trying to keep her breathing under control, trying not to cry. That’s the last thing she needed, for these men to see her crying and immediately tag her as “fragile” or “unstable”.

Breathing in and out, she focused on what to do next. On what they had on the New York councilman, what they had on his supporters, what they had on his secret files.They had to come up with a plan to get Frank out of there, fast.

Between the thirty theories and strategies that started forming in her head, that smile of his popped up. The tone of voice, the whispered deal they had struck while she pretended to fix his vest, just so she could stand there close to him before he went out on their self appointed mission.

She had had a few glimpses of that side of him before. Whenever he spoke of his family, or the one or two stories of his life before The Punisher, the army anecdotes Micro would tell between coffee and beer. She had seen a little bit of the man Frank was before she met him and she wanted to see more.

Not that she didn’t like who Frank was now. She did. He was flawed, God knows they argued about a thousand different reasons, but he was honest. He never, ever lied to her or doubted her competence. Never treated her as some fragile thing or kept things from her. And he did what he did to protect people. There was no love lost for the ones that took his bullets, even if she didn’t agree with his methods. And he trusted her, he even took care of her.

So she wanted to take care of him, too. Wanted him to let her in and see him, all of him. To have him.

That fact was very new, and still a bit hard to admit, even to herself. To want Frank was, to all effects, a waste of time. He still fought with the fact that his family was dead and he wasn’t and the image of Maria was still so alive in his mind and his heart, he had no eyes for anyone else, she was sure.

She wasn’t stupid, though. After a while, she could see the way he looked at her, hear how his voice changed when he talked to her. It was a small shift on the ground under them, but she noticed it. How he had planted himself inside her apartment when she had gotten that first threat and how he had moved a ridiculous amount of resource and manpower to place her in a safe house - one that was actually inhabitable, not the ground holes he hid himself in sometimes. That all told her she was important to him.

Plus the way his eyes would linger. Sometimes sweet, sometimes… charged. It made her heart race and her palms sweat, the hairs on the back of her neck raised every time he would forget himself and let his eyes run around her face.

He always remembered himself, though, and brought them back to the amicable platonic place they had settled a while ago.

And she wanted to push further than that, but his story is too complicated. She was afraid of hurting him further, of offending his memory of his wife, of over stepping, and ultimately end up pushing him away from her, so she didn’t.   

Karen kept those feelings to herself and took what he was willing to give, offering what he seemed ok with, be it friendship or alliance - and, sometimes, a hard time, when The Punisher threatened to run out of control.

When the car entered normal traffic, she looked at her left.

Micro’s eyes were about to burn a hole in the back of the driver’s seat.

“We’ll get him”, he said to her when he noticed her looking.

She nodded. “Yeah.”

.:.

If he was being honest, Frank was expecting more than this.

With his legs and arms tied to a chair, he felt some of his muscles complaining the electric charge he had received earlier. His bullet wounds hurt especially.

The strange thing is, they had been treated. At some point when he was unconscious, before he was tied to a bed and electrocuted repeatedly, someone had pulled the three bullets that managed to bypass his vest out of his shoulder, arm and leg and stitched him up.

It didn’t take long until the prick explained, though.

Pretty boy, Mark Wright. That stupid hairdo he wore on TV was there, as was the suit and tie. He sat in front of Frank and tried to play the scary guy, the one that kept calm but scared you with threats and power.

It was not working.

“You see, I’m a man of business, Mr. Castle. I can recognize value. And you, my friend, have value.”

Looking at him, Frank remembered the file on Karen that Micro had pulled from his computer. Superficial information about her, her address and her job, a few pictures of her walking down the street, getting home, walking into the Bulletin building. And then that word. One word that named her file and sentenced the future mayor of New York City to death the minute Frank read it.

“TREAT”

Meaning that she would be, when captured, for little Mark’s private enjoyment. She was not to be immediately killed. No. Karen would, after being caught, become Mark’s personal concubine. A secret from his fiancee, the daughter of a powerful (dirty, also corrupt, the definition of disgusting) real estate mogul. She would be kept as a maid, going from the kitchen to the main bedroom when the city’s darling son felt lonely. And, after he deemed he had enough, the “disposal” of her. She would disappear for a month and then her body would surface on the river, her system full of heroin. Another junkie case.

Frank had told her they would neutralize him. Capture, deliver to the police, expose his illegal international gun dealing business. His political career would be over, he would spend the rest of his life behind bars, paying for his crimes. Micro would make sure his bank accounts were empty, as to not finance any business from inside “the cage”. The files of his associates would also be exposed, rendering his influence and important contacts inside the world of crime null.

But that was what he told Karen. His plan had been to kill him all along.

They would, yes, drain his accounts, they would expose him and all his contacts, dismantle the gun trafficking system. But Frank was going to kill him.

“I have use for a man like you in my team”, he was saying, trying to be charming, waving that big gun around, holding it wrong, not used to it’s weight. “You and I can help each other, Mr. Castle.”

“Hmm”, Frank hummed, wishing they would get there already. “That right?”

“Yes! Think about it. I can make you rich. Give you everything you need. Help you on your… crusade, even. All you have to do is make sure everything goes… Smoothly, for me.”

“That’s nice. Haven’t heard that one before”, he said, watching as the door on the far end of the room opened and his team walked in, guns and radios and masks on and everything.

Micro was so extra.

“But I’m gonna have to say no”, he said as one of them, he wasn’t sure which, too easily disarmed a startled looking Mark, punching him in the face and making him drop to his knees on the floor, hands zip tied behind his back. “The hell took you so long?” he asked Micro, who now kneeled to untie his feet from the chair.

“What, you missed me that much?”, said Karen’s voice.

She raised her hand to move the night vision goggles that were part of the uniform and looked up at him, winking.

Frank turned his eyes to the man, the one with Mark, questioning, what the fuck is this, and all he got was a head shake.

When he was free, he looked into her eyes again, dreading it, shit, she wasn’t supposed to be here, wasn’t supposed to see it.

But he had to do it.

Walking towards the other end of the table, where Mark Wright kneeled, eyes about to bug out of his head, confused, the prick, couldn’t even understand he had been taken down, Micro handed him his gun.

“Frank?” Karen said, taking a step towards him.

“You should not have left that file so easy for me to find, Marky.”

“No no no”, he said, panicking, when Frank cocked his gun. “No, Castle, listen, you don’t have to do this, I can-”

Frank shot him. Karen gasped. He turned to Micro before he looked at her.

“The fuck is she doing here?”

Removing his mask, his friend shrugged.

“She insisted, I couldn’t stop her.”

“Couldn’t stop- Look at your size and look at hers!”

When he did turn to her, she had also taken the mask off and was looking at him, mad as she had been when he used her as bait on that diner, all those months ago.

The task, at least, had been done. His team of four men - plus Karen - had managed to execute the plan to perfection. Files were handed to the police and Karen had already handed the first draft of the exposé to her editor. Bank accounts were empty, an international gun dealing business was on the process of being dissolved.

Ok, sure, 80% of the Mark’s fortune had been redirected to charity and the innocent families the politician had destroyed in the process of building his little crime empire. The remaining 20%, plus a pretty decent arsenal, had been shared between Frank and his team - he needed to be funded, somehow. Plus, there was the rental of the apartment he had put Karen in until it was safe for her to move back to her place - or find a new one.  

Karen held her tongue until they arrived at her temporary home, where they were supposed to have breakfast in after this whole shit, after he calmly explained that the plan was actually a bit different than he previously told her. After he had had the time to explain and reason.

She was not supposed to have seen it.

So they argued. When Micro left, closing the door behind him, she demanded explanations, he asked what the hell had she been thinking, going after him like that, she accused him of lying.

“You promised me no killing!”, she argued. “You promised me, Frank!”

“You didn’t see what I saw!”, he shouted, because she needed to understand. “You didn’t see what he had planned for you! You hurt him, ma’am, you made him lose money, compromised his campaign. What he had for you, I couldn’t-” he interrupted himself, trying to calm down.

“I have told you a million times! I am not some damsel in distress, I do not need you to lie to me, I will not have you lying to me!”

“And I am _not_ gonna risk you!”

He looked at her face and, in spite of this, this fighting that went a lot longer than he had anticipated, he was glad. Glad because she was safe.

“I was going to tell you after. And I know”, he raised his hand to stop her from speaking. “I know it’s not enough, but you would never have agreed to this. You’re stubborn, Karen, and I didn’t have time to convince you. I needed him gone.”

She shook her head.

“You didn’t have to-”

“Yes I did! I did. After what I saw, I did, because I won’t-”

He took a breath. Shaking his head once, he took a step towards her, because she needed to understand.

“I won’t lose you, too.”

Karen stared at him for a few seconds, her expression hard, looking deep.

“Well”, taking the gun from the belt of her uniform and putting it on the table, she looked away from him. “It’s time you understand, Frank. I don’t want you killing for me.”

With that, she turned around and walked to the bedroom she occupied on the apartment they had been sharing until this whole thing was over.

When he heard the door clicked shut, he sighed.

.:.

He had fallen asleep on the chair by the couch, the plush material soft under him, his head cradled nicely while he watched the live feed of the building security cameras and tried not to look at the table he had imagined having breakfast with her the next morning.

The time on the TV showed it was a bit past 3 AM when he woke up with the mug of coffee being taken from his hand. Karen stood there on her pajamas, in front of him, placing it on the coffee table.

“MIcro sent me the file”, she said in a quiet tone. Frank sighed.

“I knew I should have kept him away from you”, he mused, running a hand on his face. “He tried to refuse, at least?”

She shrugged.

“Not much.”

“Fucker”, he breathed out. Micro never was very good in saying no to women. Karen, especially, seemed to be able to get anything she wanted from him.

“You should have told me, Frank.”

He looked up at her, remembering the file Mark Wright had made of her, the plans, the schemes, the detailed explanations and instructions. It all showed he had fun coming up with it.

“I just…” she started, placing a lock of blond hair behind her ear, sighing, frustrated. “I just want you to be honest with me. Don’t keep me in the dark.”

Before he could think about it too much, he reached his hand out towards her, praying to God she would-

She took it and he pulled her until she sat on his lap, legs over the armrest of the chair. With a hand on her neck, he pulled gently and touched his mouth to hers, meaning to test the waters first, but her hands slid up his chest, his neck and his face, around his head, holding him to her and opening her mouth to his, kissing him so intensely, accepting his tongue against hers, there she was, suddenly and all at once.

When he moved to taste the skin of her neck, she sighed, closed her fingers around the longer strands of his hair for a moment and moved to get up, pulling him to his feet, reaching to catch his mouth with hers again, fingers working on the vest he still wore.

Frank had to smile at that, at the complete turn of events. He had fallen asleep thinking the little deal they had struck earlier was gone, and yet here she was, after a fight, after he got shot and (slightly) tortured and had killed someone, helping him with his vest again, just like he said, like he hoped - better than he hoped.

With a grunt, he dipped his head further, taking a step towards her, guiding her towards her bedroom.

Almost two years ago, Frank had woken up with nothing. All he had had been gone and he became a monster, a walking nightmare filled with rage and pain, unstoppable.

She managed to pause him. She managed to help him breathe, to remember and forget at the same time.

Here, with her lips, hands and body against his, while he pressed her to the bed and tried and failed to not lose himself, not to pour his heart and soul and body within her and she breathed, biting her lips to keep quiet, moaning and gasping and asking for more, he saw it. His way out, the grace he thought he had lost forever and never dared to hope for again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So? What you guys think?


End file.
